He came into our village like a shadow. A Dark Dread filled with powerful magic. The King merely called him Warlord. And he owned the name. Leaving wreckage in his wake. But for me he had other plans. His cutting blue eyes seeing straight through my disguise. As his slave, his mere plaything, I'll learn the true darkness of magic without conscience. Anything he wants if me, he takes. Anything he wants me to do. I am willed to do with the flick of his hand. His power is an all consuming whirlwind. And I'm just the pretty butterfly caught in it.